


Just To Be Sure

by Dementordelta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/pseuds/Dementordelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin finds himself in the unlikely and unwanted position of playing matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just To Be Sure

Remus Lupin folded the second section of the Daily Prophet and tossed it onto the large wooden table in front of him. Eyeing the man across the table, Lupin decided Snape wasn't, as usual, getting up off the main section anytime soon and reached over for the smaller sports section again with a sigh.

Though he and Snape had achieved peace since Lupin had come back to teach four years ago, they had never been close. Of course, no one could really claim to be close to Snape.  
Sun poured in through the mullioned windows, warming the late spring afternoon, but Snape was dressed head to toe in his usual black. Settling back in the heavy wooden chair of the staff room Remus unfolded the paper.

The sun always made him a bit sleepy, but he forced himself to focus on the broadsheet. He and Snape had got into the habit of arriving early for the weekly staff meeting since both had free periods at the end of the day. Casting an eye on his sullen colleague, Lupin reflected that even the enforced proximity had never made the other man chatty.

Lupin scanned the section until one item caught his eye. He read it with a smile, then chuckled, earning him a dark look from the man beside him.

"Our Harry's made the papers again," he said, tamping down the urge to apologize. Lupin was currently the holder of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and had been since Harry's seventh year. The young man had been playing Quidditch since graduation.

"Your Harry you mean; I'm shut of the brat." Snape looked up as if to make his point. Then just as quickly looked back into his own paper. "What's it say?"

Lupin suppressed a smile at the pretended indifference. He read, "What young hero of the wizarding world--well no need to guess who that is," he commented before continuing. "was seen dancing until all hours with the Belgian seeker? Looks like European wizard relations are thawing."

He smiled fondly and looked up. Snape's dark eyes radiated his puzzlement. "Can't be Mr. Potter. The Belgian seeker is a man."

Lupin's brow rose. "Didn't think you followed Quidditch, Severus. Of course he's a man. Why else would Harry--" The meaning of the look dawned. "You didn't know."

Snape looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. "He's queer?"

"They say 'gay' these days, old man," Lupin clarified pedantically.

"Potter's gay?" Snape said slowly, as if addressing a particularly dense first year.

"Well, er, yes. We all rather assumed it was one of the reasons you loathed him, perhaps a bit homophobic." Lupin frowned, studying the man in front of him. Lupin's own chair lay directly in the path of the slowly creeping sunlight. Snape's was angled away as if he really were the vampire he'd been rumored to be even as far back as when Lupin was in school.

"Though I've always thought of you as asexual, like a bug or a jellyfish or something," Lupin went on, remembering all the discussions in the Gryffindor boy's dorm about the sexual habits of anyone not a Gryffindor.

A fall of the always loose raven wing black hair fell over Snape's face as he turned his head away. "How long?" The question sounded strained.

"What?" Lupin blinked, abandoning his newspaper. "The way I understand these things his, er, preference is something he was born with."

Snape looked up sharply, but when he spoke his voice was back under control. "I mean how long have you known?" A slight tremor went through the spread broadsheet in the pale hands.

"Oh. Since I taught here." Despite the dappling sunlight Remus was wide awake. "The first time," he added snidely. "He came to me once and asked if it was all right to have certain feelings--" He'd been honored at the time and had counseled the boy as best he could. "Or not have them towards girls, I suppose."

Very carefully Snape folded his own paper and laid it on the worn staff table. "Feelings for whom?" The question was quiet, punctuated by pale hands, looking very white against the ebon black of his robes.

Remus remembered the nervous boy Harry had been, and the happy young man he'd become in the years since. Lupin was a frequent visitor to the young man's flat and considered himself a friend. "I don't know exactly," Lupin admitted. "Though I don't suppose it's any of your business."

The two men eyed each other until Snape looked away. "I'm not."

Lupin frowned. "Not what?"

Slowly the dark head looked up again. "Homophobic." Then he added with a grimace, "Or asexual."

A slight flush crept up Lupin's cheeks. "Well, bit of a joke. Bad one I'm sure." Then, "Oh god." And because his conclusion was so startling, he said exactly the wrong thing. "Does Harry know?"

How could the man keep going pale like that, Lupin reflected. Snape was bone-white already.

"Don't--don't be absurd," the other wizard said. "What does he have to do with--" Suspicion clouded the already distrusting face.

"I always thought he, well, fancied you." It seemed a safe thing to say. It had been true enough in Harry's last year when all of them had been closer than peacetime would usually warrant. Though when Lupin himself had come back to teach there had been no more schoolboy confessions. He was, however, an observant man. And there had always been *something* between Harry and his Potions professor.

Snape stood up abruptly. "I thought we were past this, Lupin." The tall frame gave the impression of looming over the seated werewolf without moving. "I *thought* we'd developed if not a meet-in-the-pub-once-a-week relationship, then at least a cordial one." The words were a quiet hiss.

The Gryffindor looked blank. "Do you want to meet in the pub once a week?" he asked, puzzled.

"Don't be daft," came the sharp bark.

"Severus what--" Remus tried.

"But I see you haven't outgrown your fondness for pranks."

It had been so long since he'd been the target of Snape's anger that it took a moment for the full import to sink in. By that time, the bat-like shape was moving toward the door. "You know I would never--Damn it, Severus!"

Escape was cut off however by the imposing figure of McGonagall and the diminutive figure of the Charms teacher Flitwick. Snape stopped short. Lupin couldn't tell what expression was forced upon Snape's face, but both teachers were looking at them curiously. Behind the two blocking the door, other professors were arriving for the staff meeting.

Needless to say Snape wouldn't meet his eyes during the weekly meeting. Lupin winced in sympathy when, distracted, Snape found himself agreeing to find suitable tutors for three Hufflepuffs who were failing Potions.

But when Lupin tried to catch Snape after the meeting all he managed to catch was a glimpse of the black retreating back.

Snape managed to avoid him all week. Remus sat in the staff room a week later alone, realizing Snape, despite his free period, would not be arriving early. Time, Lupin concluded grimly, to approach the situation from another angle.

~~**~~**~~**~~

Harry Potter, erstwhile hero, present day Quidditch player set the kettle on the smooth eye of the stove and cast a heating charm on it. He liked his tea to come to a boil slowly, unlike some wizards who flash heated it. So he pulled out sugar and milk while he waited. Peering into the nearly empty sugar bowl he decided he needed to visit the grocer now that he would be spending a few weeks in his flat.

The season was over until after the World Cup, which despite Harry's best efforts, England wouldn't be competing in this year. So the young man had the luxury of a few weeks alone.

Alone. It had been weird the first year after he'd graduated to come back to an empty flat, knowing he could make as bloody much noise as he wanted without someone in the next bed over complaining.

He could have lived with Ron, had in fact for three weeks before he'd found this place. The awkwardness of bringing home his first sleep over date had ended, as he'd known it would, that arrangement. Knowing your best friend was gay, and being confronted by disheveled men at the breakfast table were two different things.

A roar in the floo at the other end of the kitchen made him turn around. Though he knew his fireplace was only connected to friendly souls, years of living by his wits had sharpened his instincts.

Remus' friendly head bobbed over the artificial green fire. "Harry!"

"Hullo, Remus," Harry said, crossing the room to squat down by the fire.

"Glad to find you at home, my boy. Are you up for some company?"

Harry smiled and stepped back, allowing Remus to floo in properly. He usually saw his friend at matches or at Ron and Hermione's. Harry, for reasons of his own, usually declined invitations to visit Hogwarts.

"Don't tell me you can smell my cuppa brewing all the way in Scotland," he teased, seating them both around the cozy chintz-covered table.

Sipping gratefully the older man smiled. "Makes a nice change from the staff room brew." They talked easily about their mutual disappointment that England had failed to win a shot at the World Cup.

It wasn't until Harry stood to put another pot on that Remus asked him the question that had obviously brought him here. "Harry, are you seeing anyone?"

Harry tensed, though he wasn't sure why, covering it by rattling the lid of the teapot.

"Regularly, I mean," the older man said, "Like a relationship?"

Without turning around Harry answered, "That's awfully personal." He didn't mind talking about such things with his straight friends, but he really hadn't had a heart to heart with Lupin since he was thirteen. When he turned around the amber-eyed gaze was on him but darted away quickly as Remus took a moment to steady his own teacup.

"If I asked you, if there had been anyone, maybe someone you thought you never had a chance with, but that you might have had a, I don't know, a crush on or something--" The warm gaze was back on him, and Harry sat down.

"That wasn't really a question," he pointed out, and Lupin exhaled softly.

"I'm not very good at this," the older man admitted with a slight grimace. He looked down again blankly at his empty teacup and thrust it abruptly into Harry's hand.

Harry stood again to take the tea kettle off the boil. "Remus," he said, keeping his hands busy while he talked. "I think you're cute, but I'm not really attracted to you in that way."

The swift sound of surprise turned him back around. "Oh no! Not me!" Remus protested. Then, "You think I'm cute?"

Harry chuckled at the obvious distress he'd caused. "Well, yeah." He eyed the other man in his best 'scoping out' fashion. "In that 'bedraggled werewolf' kind of way." He poured out two steaming cups, knowing they could both use the distraction. "Besides, I thought you were straight."

Lupin was almost comical in his obvious relief at the tea. He took a long sip and sighed appreciatively. "I am. This isn't about me. It's about Severus."

Harry almost choked on his tea. "Damn it Remus! How did you know? I've never told anyone!" He all but dropped the cup on the table, looking down at it without seeing anything but the images that name brought up.

The quiet voice beside him spoke. "The last few years you were at school. The way you looked at him."

"He never looked back," Harry grated out. He'd been little more than a love struck teenager that last year. The only thing that salved his pride was at least he'd never thrown himself at his Potions professor. A soft sigh beside him make him look up.

"He couldn't look back. Not and be the man he is."

Harry forced himself to relax and shook his head sadly at his friend. "It doesn't matter. He's not--" He stalled on the word, here with the man who had been one of his father's friends, stalled, despite knowing since he was a boy that he preferred other boys. Men.

But Lupin knew. "He is," he said confidently and Harry looked back up. "I think he is. He sort of said he was."

Well, that was certainly reassuring. Certainly worth humbling himself in front of a man who, to all appearances, had loathed him since he was eleven years old. "No, he's, I don't know, asexual or something." He sat back in the chair and ran a distracted hand through his hair. "But if he is, then that proves it, doesn't it? He can't be interested in me because he's never shown the slightest sign--"

"He didn't know you were gay."

Harry laughed. "How could he not know? I think I've dated half the gay wizards in the World Quidditch League, and a third of the straight ones pretending to be gay so they could date me!" He exhaled softly. "Everyone knows!"

Calm amber eyes hinted at laughter. "It isn't as though you took out an ad in the Daily Prophet," he reasoned. "Everyone who loves you knows, and of course the m-men you've dated."

Harry felt an irrational flush of pride that Lupin had managed to only slightly stumble over the word 'men'.

"And even Witch Weekly never comes out and says anything. Just those damn coy hints."

He could smile at that. "Well, it really doesn't change anything," he admitted. "At least Snape doesn't know how I--" He could tell by the guilty flush on Remus' face that he really wasn't going to like the next part of the conversation at all.

~~**~~**~~**~~

Severus Snape stared down into the swirling depths of the Wolfsbane potion and briefly contemplated adding a touch of iron filings. It probably wouldn't change the beneficial effects of Lupin's change, but it would lock his bowels up for days.

He was quite aware that the former Marauder had been trying to talk to him privately for days. But Snape had lived at Hogwarts for many years and knew more ways than those vaunted Marauders to avoid human contact if he truly wished it.

He tried to make himself believe he truly wished it.

He tried to tell himself he was glad he hadn't seen Potter in person since the boy had left school. One could hardly avoid seeing him in print, smiling shyly at one event or another. He'd tried to tell himself a lot of things since The Incident in the staff room. That it was merely good to know and not amazing to know what those looks Potter had been giving him that last year really were about. He'd thought at the time it might have been gratitude. And perhaps it still was.

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that it was all in the past. Rubbing the bridge of his nose he reflected that here at last was something he could tell himself that he believed.

A loud 'pop' sounded behind him, and it was a testimony to just how many years he had lived here that the house elf's appearance didn't startle him.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, turning away from his cauldron. Since the diminutive creature didn't hold a tray Snape assumed he hadn't missed too many meals in his avoidance campaign with his nosey colleague. Some busy body who eventually noticed his too many absences at the Head Table usually sent a tray down to remind him to eat.

"Headmaster is sending me to tell you, you has a visitor," the elf said. "He is sending him right down sir."

"Tell the Headmaster I am absolutely not in the mood--"

The fireplace at one end of his quarters roared at the exact moment the messenger popped away. Snape watched with a dismal sense of foreboding as Harry Potter, barely touched with soot, step out of his floo.

For a long moment the two men regarded each other. Snape tried to supress a surge of something that went through him at the sight. Potter had filled out admirably. Though he would never be tall, his always lean body had acquired an overall toning that suited his frame. More than physically the boy had matured, blooming from the boy Snape had known to the young man now before him.

"Mr. Potter," he acknowledged, warily breaking the silence.

"Professor," Potter said. It was the voice that made him look away at last. It was so familiar. He'd heard it under every possible circumstances, from before it had changed, to hoarse shouts of pain when he'd been cursed.

"What brings you--" he began as the young man crossed the stone floor, handing him a plain cream-colored envelope.

"Two tickets to the World Cup," Potter said, not moving away. Since he was so close Snape took the opportunity to take a really good look.

"You've been out in the world a bit," he said.

The familiar shy smile popped out. "A bit sir." The famous green eyes gaze rested on his face without apology. "Tried everything twice."

One long finger smoothed along the edge of the square envelope. "Twice?" he asked, letting the boy look his fill. It would make things easier later if he did.

A negligent shrug. "Just to be sure."

Suddenly the young man was just a bit too close. Snape held up the envelope to give the illusion of more space between them. "England's not playing," he pointed out, wondering why this particular ex-student had shown up at this particular time.

"I know, sir."

Snape set the envelope down carefully on the edge of his worktable. "Then why?"

The older man got the impression Harry wanted to look away but didn't. "In case you'd like to take me, sir." Then, amazingly, he colored and said, "To the match, I mean."

Well, it had to be played out sometime, Snape thought regretfully. "You've been talking to Lupin." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir."

"Did he put you up to this?" It was an extraordinary amount of effort for a prank, but the Marauders had done worse in their time. Except of course, it wasn't their time. And why was Potter looking at him like that?

"Er, no sir."

"Stop calling me that!" Damn the boy for sounding so irritatingly respectful. Not even in his most pathetic attempts as a student had he even bothered.

A frown crossed those perfect lips. "What would you like me to--"

"Never mind." The fury had risen swiftly, but the vagueness of the target gnawed at him. "Get out." He turned away. The damned envelope was still there, right where he had left it.

Behind him he heard a rustle of movement. "I see, sir. I mean, I see." The rustling stopped. But he could tell Potter hadn't gone, could still hear low, still breaths.

"Are you involved with someone else?"

There was an edge to the voice he couldn't place so he turned back around and snapped, "Of course not!" And damn it, why was Potter still looking at him like that?

"Why 'of course not'?" The lean frame seemed about to move closer, and he involuntarily put his hand back against the waist-high work table. The ball of his hand touched a corner of the envelope. He frowned at the obvious curiosity, not meaning to answer.

"I'm not the sort of man who gets involved," he found himself saying.

"Quick meaningless sex then, is that it?" The grin that popped onto that young face was so engaging he found himself answering without thinking of anything but a way to make that mouth stay in just that shape.

"Yes." Then he looked up, horrified. "I mean, no."

The grin faded, but only fractionally. "Because that's all right too. If you're attracted to me."

His own lips shifted, a definite upward movement. "You don't get turned down much, do you?"

"No, sir." A beat. "I mean, no, Professor."

A grimace. "That's worse."

A speculative gleam hit the emerald eyes. "Can I call you--"

"No!" The denial was so sharp the young man flinched.

But didn't look away. "Well, sorry to have troubled you," Potter said, looking again for that smile but not finding it. "Keep the tickets. The seats are good. Bring anyone you like."

Potter's voice broke on the last word. Snape looked up sharply. "Wait!" Because the boy was turning away, toward the fireplace. "Why me? Why now?"

Potter cleared his throat. "Remus said you didn't know about me, about the way I am." Somehow the fact that his ex-student couldn't even say the word made it worse. "And I thought," Potter continued, "that since you didn't know, maybe that's why you never--"

The color creeping into those smooth cheeks was beguiling. It didn't take a gay man to see that. "Never made a pass at you?" he completed, when it seemed the famed Gryffindor courage failed.

"Yeah. Yes, sir." A frustrated glower. "Yes, Professor."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You make me sound like a child molester."

"I'm not a child, sir," Potter said softly.

He sighed. "You may as well call me Severus." Hair had fallen into his face, and he shook his head until it was back in place. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that neither of us enjoyed our forced cooperation while you were a student."

Potter shrugged. "Hard to enjoy anything with an evil wizard trying to kill you, or kidnap your friends, or use your body for--" He stopped and looked away. "Sorry, sir. Severus. It's over now, isn't it?"

It was strange how much he remembered that particular haunted expression in Potter's face.

"Thanks to you."

Snape cleared his throat. "You greatly overestimate--" he began, hands going behind his back as if to begin a lecture.

But the young may was obviously through with lectures. "Dumbledore told me everything."

Snape didn't know what to say about that.

A rough hand dragged through the still untidy hair. He had a faint image of it slicked down as young Malfoy had always done and tried to picture Potter with anything tidy about him. "Look, this isn't about that," Potter said. "This is about whether you ever thought about me as anything besides some kid whose arse you always needed to pull out of trouble."

He hadn't been that obvious about it, had he?

"Because I thought about you. A lot." The long searching look changed to something else in the long silence, and the boy looked away. "Well, I guess that's my answer then, isn't it? If I'd wanted to be humiliated, I could have just asked you back then and saved myself years of w-wondering." The bitter laugh seemed incongruous from that soft looking mouth.

"Harry, don't," he began, dropping his arms, almost taking a step closer.

"Don't," Harry said, as if repeating Snape's last words. "It's all right, really. I had to ask. I had to know." He took a backward step toward the fireplace, then a half turn and a full step toward it. Snape realized he was really going to go.

"Don't make me hex you," he growled softly.

Potter stilled. "You wouldn't hurt me," came the still quiet voice. "You saved my arse too many times. You were always there. Sometimes before Albus." Slowly he turned back around. "Why--why was that?"

Snape found his hand seeking out the corner of the work table again. "You know why."

He should have known it wouldn't be enough. "I think you could tell me."

This at least he could be honest about. "Some stupid, misplaced idea of protecting you," he admitted.

Slowly the boyish head turned, eyes narrowed, muting their gleam. "You're still doing it, aren't you? Trying to protect me?" Harry stepped away from the fireplace.

"It's a difficult habit to break," he said, watching the boy take another step closer.

"I'm a big boy now, Severus," Potter said softly, still closing the smaller and smaller gap between them until there was no gap at all, even as warm lips met his own.

"Harry, what are you--" he said, pulling away, but just far enough to speak. His lips tingled slightly where Potter had kissed them.

Arms slid around his waist, negating the need to lean on the heavy work table. "Convincing you. You won't send me away, and you won't let me go." The lips tried their luck with his jaw, and when he didn't pull away they moved under his chin.

"You must want me to stay." The lips left his neck and once again the green eyes flickered to the cream colored envelope lying askew on the work table. "Will you come to the match with me?"

Snape nodded, wondering how far off the date was. He felt his breath coming shortly, as if afraid to breathe on the man in his arms.

A warm speculative gaze met his. "Sure you wouldn't settle for just quick meaningless sex?"

"Can't I have both?"

"Greedy bugger, aren't you?" said Harry, smiling, lips moving into his, letting them smile together before easing them into a deep, wet kiss. Snape's own arms slowly wrapped around the slim youth in his arms, letting them both adjust to the not quite strangeness of this.

"Tried everything twice, eh?" he asked, watching the dark head nuzzling his neck.

"Oh yeah," from somewhere in the vicinity of his collar.

"What was the best thing you tried?" A soft chuckle sounded from below him. He could feel the gentle reverberation of it against his chest.

"Well, it usually started with me saying 'I don't know who you are, but when this night's over you'll be begging for mercy'." Harry pulled back as though to see how the confession had affected him. This close his eyes looked very green. "I didn't think I had a chance with you. It didn't matter when it wasn't you." When Snape didn't pull away, he must have given the determinedly honest young man some absolution.

"You don't mind that I was--" As much as Snape enjoyed watching the essentially guileless face try to find a way to confess, their proximity generated a certain amount of sympathy.

"Promiscuous? Wild? Indiscreet?" Snape felt Harry relax against him. "I had a rather indiscreet youth myself." Very close to Potter's ear he said, "Wouldn't mind another one, if you think there's something you'd like to try again."

Harry appeared to think it over. "Well, there's this one thing." He nuzzled Snape's neck. "It starts like this." The mouth worked its way up. "And ends a couple of hours later with someone on their back."

Small tongue thrusts against his mouth pulled a tiny sound out of him. Not a whimper. "I," he began, then tried again. "I think I'd like that."

"Which? The couple of hours part, or the being on your back part?"

Decisions, decisions. "Both."

"Then we'll have to try it twice," Potter affirmed, hands working the row of buttons on his coat.

"Just to be sure?" The boy had only moved a step away, but he already missed the subtle warmth.

"Just to be sure."

~~**~~**~~**~~

Remus Lupin had got used to waiting alone for the weekly staff meeting. It had been several weeks since Severus had shared the empty staff room and the newspaper with him.

So, it was something of a surprise to see the Potions master sweep in, eyeing Lupin briefly before sitting down in his usual chair away from the creeping sunlight. Wordlessly, Lupin handed Snape the Daily Prophet. The only other current periodical was 'Witch Weekly', and he well knew his colleague's views on that particular publication.

Snape took the offering but didn't open it, looking like he was going to say something.

Thinking something vague about Gryffindors and moral high ground, Lupin said, "Sorry about the fuss."

The inky eyes dropped into Snape's lap, but Lupin didn't think Snape was reading the headlines. "Don't mention it."

It was almost a civil conversation. Lupin decided to press his luck. "Sorry it took so long to apologize. I looked for you but--" He shrugged expressively, aware that Snape had looked up.

"Been, er, busy," Snape said. He fiddled with the newspaper in his lap and then unexpectedly pushed it toward Lupin. "Harry sends his regards." He took the copy of 'Witch Weekly' and buried his not-inconsiderable nose in it.

Lupin sat back in his chair and smiled. Then he opened the paper and smiled again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written long before the books were finished, so not even remotely Canon Compliant. Beta read by Isiscolo.


End file.
